


Courier Carrot

by DireDigression



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:15:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23047636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DireDigression/pseuds/DireDigression
Summary: A girl wakes up with a gunshot between her eyes, takes the name Carrot, and proceeds to inflict herself upon the Mojave.
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8





	1. Ain't That a Kick In the Head

Consciousness. Rough fabric against her hand. Throbbing headache. Bright light pressing her eyes open. 

"You're awake. Huh. Look at that."

Grimacing in the light, she turned her head to see the man sitting in front of her. Struggling against her stiff, sore neck took almost all of her energy. The man kept talking, but she was distracted by a voice in her head, a phrase looping like a stuck song. 

_"Must seem like an 18-karat run of bad luck."_

Eighteen carrots. What a weird phrase. Something to describe jewelry, she recalled. Or some sort of shiny thing, anyway. Was eighteen good or bad? Eighteen out of how many? What did that have to do with luck? And why did they judge jewelry in terms of carrots? She'd only seen carrots a couple times in her life, rare merchandise from a couple of the more brave or more stupid Commonwealth traders. Could be carrots were as valuable as jewelry. Maybe-- _fuck_ , her head...

"… _Carrot?_ … Can't say it's what I'd have picked for you, but if that's your name, that's your name."

She'd forgotten the man across from her. She must have been muttering out loud. She began to correct him, but stopped when she realized she didn't actually remember her name. Huh. Well, she'd never been too attached to it anyway. Carrot. Being named after jewelry was pretty fancy. Like some pre-war heiress. Imagine that, some pre-war heiress tramping around the Mojave in her tattered wanderer outfit and hurling dynamite at geckos.

Carrot giggled, a sound that came out slightly manic and turned to a whimper as her head throbbed. The sensation was dampened--a heavy dose of med-x was definitely at work--but still formidable. Musta been a hell of a night.

A small cough brought her back to the room. The man in front of her. Right. He was older, balding, dressed comfortably instead of for survival. He quickly wiped a wary look from his face as she met his eyes.

"I'm Doc Mitchell. Welcome to Goodsprings. Now, I hope you don't mind, but I had to go rooting around there in your noggin to pull all the bits of lead out."

"Wh--what?" Her dry mouth tasted like dirt and clung to her words as she tried to speak. She struggled upright on the couch, accepting Doc Mitchell's offered help.

"Whoa, easy there. Easy. You been out cold a couple days." He frowned at the confusion on her face. "Do you remember what happened to you?"

Carrot carefully shook her head. "No...I don't remember much of anything. How’d I get here?"

"That'd be Victor.”

“Victor?”

“Curious fella. Sort of odd.”

“Oh.”

“And I don't just mean 'cause he's a robot. I couldn't tell you much about him. He's real friendly, don't get me wrong. You just get the sense that ain't the whole picture. Just a feeling. Keeps to himself, mostly. You want to know more about him, you'll have to ask him yourself. He has a shack on the southern edge of town."

The robot had his own shack? She was familiar with robots--eyebots, securitrons, that sort of thing. But she didn't know many with the ability to "keep to themselves" in their own shack, human-like.

Headache. Right. Noggin. Lead. "...Did I get shot?"

"Yep. Handgun, close range, execution style. Someone musta had a helluva bone to pick with you. You're lucky the bullet hit low, else it woulda taken out more than just a chunk of frontal lobe. Hell, with luck like yours I'm surprised them bullets didn't just turn right around and climb back into the gun."

She reached up to her forehead. The throbbing pain became more of a burn as she prodded the gauze taped there, low on her forehead between her eyes. A similar patch marked the exit wound at the nape of her neck, just to the side of her spine.

"Careful now, even a super stim's gonna take some time to knit your skull back together. Don't go ruining all that hard work I did."

She continued fidgeting with the patch on her forehead. Doc Mitchell glared at her, steelier than she thought possible, until she ruefully dropped her hand. "Do you know anything about whoever shot me?"

"I didn't see him or the men with him. Victor just got a glimpse of them. You might ask around town, though. Could be someone saw which way they was headed. Your best bet would probably be Trudy, the bartender at the saloon up the road. If anyone saw anything, she'd know about it."

She began to speak more, but Doc Mitchell waved her quiet. "We can chat later. No sense keeping you in bed anymore. Let's see if we can get you on your feet. The sooner you finish these tests the sooner you can get out of here."

He led her through a variety of odd physical and mental tasks that made no sense to her, but the slight variations in his face when she answered told her that the doc was reading plenty into them. Almost too much. Carrot preferred to be on the questioning end.

  
———

  
Finally they finished. “Very interesting,” said the doc. “Maybe a little disturbing…but interesting. Seems like you’re fit to hit the road, at least.”

Carrot gave him a lopsided grin. “Thanks for patching me up, Doc.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s what I’m here for.” He pulled a brahminhide pack that she recognized as her own from a nearby shelf and handed it to her. “Here. Was all you had on you when you was brought in…I hope you don’t mind, but I gave the note a look. I thought it might help me find a next of kin. But it was just something about a platinum chip.”

He went silent as she dug through the pack. A few stims, a few sticks of dynamite, a too-small fistful of caps. The note he’d mentioned. Not even a can of water. 

“I expect you’ll be wanting to go outside after being cooped up for so long, but if you have any questions—oh, wait here just a mo—” He bustled from the room, and Carrot heard sounds of heavy objects dragging and slamming.

After a few minutes, he returned with a bundle in his arms. “You ought to have this. They call it a Pip-Boy. I grew up in one of them vaults they made before the war. We all got one. And put this on, too, so the locals don't pick on you for lacking modesty. Was my wife's. I think she was about your size, and she hardly wore it after we left the vault. Felt it was too brazen.”

Carrot’s eyes went wide. “Actual vault gear? I didn’t think any of this existed anymore. You could sell it for a pretty penny, ya know.”

Doc Mitchell chuckled. “Ain’t got the heart or need for that, but you feel free if’n ya want. As long as it helps you out, my wife’d be glad it went to a good cause. Ain't much use to me now. But you might want it, after what you been through. I know what it's like, having something taken from you.”

“Well then, thank you to your wife.” Carrot dragged on the slightly elastic jumpsuit, grimacing slightly at the brilliant, unfaded blue and yellow. It clearly hadn’t seen the sun in years. Cazadors’d be all over her thinking she was some big mutant flower. The pip-boy, though. Now that was some proper pre-war techy magic. She strapped it onto her forearm, adjusting to the unfamiliar weight as it updated with her information. The home screen showed the fabled vault-boy, his head currently wrapped in a comically large bandage. Flipping the knobs, she found that it somehow already knew the contents of her pack and even the suit she was wearing. Creepy.

Carrot followed Doc Mitchell to the front door. A few stimpaks and med-x syringes vanished from the shelves as they passed. It wasn’t like she was intending to steal from him. Doc just wouldn’t want her out there all hurt and helpless again, right? He’d said himself that he didn’t want his hard work ruined. She was doing him a favor, really, so he wouldn’t have to stitch her up next time a shooty bastard picked a fight.

“You should talk to Sunny Smiles before you leave town. She can help you learn to fend for yourself in the desert. She'll likely be at the saloon. I reckon some of the other folks at the saloon might be able to help you out, too. And the metal fella, Victor, who pulled you outta your grave. Anyway, you ever get hurt out there, you come right back. I'll fix you up. But try not to get killed anymore.”

Carrot grinned at him. “Fingers crossed.”

He smiled back. “Git goin’, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gold star to anyone who can come up with a caps-based alternative to the phrase "pretty penny"


	2. That Lucky Old Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carrot pushes big red buttons.

Carrot sprinted down the dark hallway. “RUN!”

Behind her, a small army of protectrons teetered towards them. Bright red laser flashes from the bots shot past the three, perilously close to contact. Seconds earlier, Carrot had spotted the laser tripwire in the doorway, but not soon enough to keep herself from charging through it as she fled a Mister Gutsy. Luckily, Boone had taken that one down before the protectrons activated. As for them—

An ear-shattering explosion threw Carrot and Boone to the ground and ED-E into a wall as a dome of crackling blue lightning enveloped the bots. The plasma grenade, one of Carrot’s new favorite toys, blew tangles of metal from them. The remaining parts sparked, smoked, and collapsed in the hallway.

Carrot and Boone scrambled to their feet and ED-E, beeping angrily, launched himself back into the air. Otherwise, there was silence. They clung to the wall, listening for anything besides the ringing of their ears and some residual static from ED-E, until they were reassured that the threat was past.

“Damn,” giggled Carrot. “That was cool.”

Boone glared at her. “Let’s just get moving and hope there’s no more up ahead.”

Of course, getting moving took some time, as Carrot was unwilling to leave any loot behind. She quickly emptied the toolboxes and bins in the area before moving on to the mangled bots. She didn’t know hide from hair on electronic things, but she recognized a few of the easier-to-remove bits as common stock in scrap sellers’ bins. No reason to leave free caps behind—especially now that she had Boone to lug it.

“Gonna be hard covering you when I can’t move my legs,” he grumbled as Carrot loaded him up with scrap. ED-E twittered in an amused sort of way, until she started piling the remainder onto him.

Now, ED-E—his acquisition had been utterly unexpected. Even Boone, whose repair abilities outstripped hers, had taken one look at the pitiful pile of metal on the Mojave Express desk and offered to take it to the Gibson scrap yard himself (as long as he got to keep the caps). But as Carrot had emptied her bag of loot in front of Johnson Nash for trade, his eyes had slowly widened. “Youngster, I reckon you just brought me exactly what I need to fix that old bucket of bolts.” And with a startling amount of sprightliness for such a weathered man, he had swept up an armload of Carrot’s junk and set to work tinkering on the eyebot. His intensity had left Carrot and Boone in slightly stunned silence, just wanting to trade their loot and move on.

And now the eyebot was part of their little party, singing fierce beeping war cries and taking down protectrons with his laser gun.

Eventually Carrot finished scavenging and they continued on through the dark hallways. The remainder of the journey was uneventful, and finally they discovered their goal: the elevator to the Helios One Observation Level. Here, as that idiot wearing sunglasses in the basement had informed them, they would be able to…do something to get the shiny mirrors outside flowing juice to the region. They’d done something about “resetting mainframe connection” outside the plant, and Fantastic said they needed to “do the rest” up here. Past all the killer robots.

Carrot was a huge fan of Fantastic, really. Dude knew his way around the NCR grunts and was totally shameless about it. Gotta respect that.

But now they were up here, slightly singed from the killer robots, and the computer was complaining about not getting enough juice even though it was in the damned juice plant, and he’d given them no actual info to go on. Oh, and a cable was chewed to bits and emitting an acrid smoke that gave Carrot a headache.

She began organizing the loot. It was a good way to pass the time while she waited for either her brain or the universe to give her something useful.

Or Boone, apparently. “I think I found something,” he called from upstairs. “Dormant Mister Handy. Maybe it’s only for maintenance. Might be able to fix the system.”

Carrot trotted up to where he waited. The Mister Handy floated over a charging pad lit in pale blue. The flamer and buzzsaw on its curled legs (she was far too familiar with those) were still in place, but other tools seemed to have been retrofitted wherever there was space. It wasn’t often she got to see an undamaged Handy this close without the distraction of being flambéed. She couldn’t resist the impulse to reach out to touch it.

The robot jumped to life. 

Carrot screamed and leapt backwards. Boone jerked, tried to grab his rifle off his shoulders, and tripped over a chair.

The Handy swept past them as if they didn’t exist.

Bewildered, they stared after it as it descended the stairs. ED-E’s startled beeping was heard as the Handy approached, soon changing to a slower, more confused sound. Carrot and Boone hurried to the railing, where they watched the Handy descend upon the smoking cable. After a few minutes of deft movements and a remarkable amount of sparking, the Handy collapsed next to the cable, once again dormant. The smoking from the cable was gone, and it looked as though the output on the monitor screen had changed.

“What…the hell,” said Carrot.

Boone looked at her, back to the bot, and then back to her. With his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, only a twitch in his frown indicated increased scrutiny. He pointed at her hand. “What are you holding?”

Carrot looked at her hand in surprise. Apparently she was still holding one of the loot items she’d been sorting, a small square computer drive. A holodisk. “An employee ID card, looks like. Guess waving it close started up the Handy?” Her confusion morphed into a cocky grin. “Glad I grabbed everything now, huh?”

Boone snorted and headed back downstairs. “Lucky us.”

Finally into the computer, Carrot eyed the terminal options. “Configure Power Grid”: that was probably to shift the juice around the region. More interesting was the one at the bottom, with the name ARCHIMEDES prominent. That was exciting. Options all in caps felt like the boring-green-terminal version of a big red button. She was disappointed to find that it only contained a memo, though, so she continued to the power grid option.

There it was again. _ARCHIMEDES II_. She vaguely caught notice of the other options around it, names of Mojave towns, but they were far less fascinating. Hadn’t that other guy, the sciency one working with Fantastic, mentioned something about it? ARCHIMEDES was calling to her. She selected it and the terminal returned to the original menu, which now included a new option:

_Arm ARCHIMEDES Plant Defense System_

What the hell. She was always a sucker for big red buttons. Besides, an important place like this could always use some extra defense measures, right?

Suddenly a siren blared. ED-E twittered nervously. For some reason, Boone eyed her and started murmuring, “Carrot, what did you—”

She cut him off. “No time, Boone, don’cha hear that? We gotta get moving before whatever’s happening happens. Looks like the last switch is up top.” She charged up the stairs and out of the building into the midday sun.

Out on the tower observation deck, far above the broad field of shinies, the control console was easily identified by the massive switch. Carrot wriggled in delight—she got to press _all_ the big red buttons today. She leaned over the railing, spending a moment to take in the view of the Mojave and the array of mirrors below. Then she pulled the switch.

——

Bubbling over with excitement, Carrot charged into the room where Fantastic was working. She couldn’t wait to tell him the incredible thing she’d just seen. How lucky it was that she had been there out on the observation deck, gazing across the Mojave, right as that column of heavenly light shone from the sky! Even Boone had showed some emotion, although it seemed more angry than amazed? Her good mood couldn’t be swayed by his grumpiness right now, though.

But Fantastic’s reaction was equally disappointing. “What the fuck, man?” he shouted. “Are you loco? You just killed my paycheck!”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “I moved the shinies and sent out the juice, just like you asked!” But Fantastic just huffed and turned away.

The sciency guy was also unimpressed, but Carrot had expected that. He wasn’t as cool as Fantastic. Still didn’t know what or why he was blaming on her. Maybe he was just jealous that she’d figured out how to fix the shiny plant without him.

Carrot left the plant, Boone stalking darkly behind her and ED-E over his shoulder. All the NCR guards had vanished. Maybe they’d left to check out the light show too. She couldn’t blame them. But as for her, she’d had enough excitement for the day. Off she jogged towards her Novac bed and a well-deserved rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're not aware, activating the ARCHIMEDES Defense System turns on a giant space laser or something that kills all the NCR working at the plant (who pay Fantastic for his theoretical degree in physics). Luckily Carrot had already accidentally managed to rack up massively positive karma with them somehow, so accidentally killing the lot of them only dropped her to "Pick a side already, the rest of us did!" levels of neutral with the NCR.
> 
> tl;dr Carrot causes a lot of major consequences on accident


	3. Comes a Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carrot makes a friend and remembers something important.

Carrot gasped, pulling herself up the last few steps to the top of the overpass. To her relief, the road was topped with signs of civilization, and what appeared to be traders at that. With Boone cooling his heels back in Novac, the task of hauling loot was left to her and ED-E, and the poor eyebot was already bobbing dangerously low, the sack of loot hung off him dragging the ground.

Successfully—if breathlessly—having traded her collected Viper pistols and horsenettles and pilot lights for a sack of caps and some actual food, she flopped onto a picnic table to tear into a grilled mantis leg. ED-E dropped gently to the table next to her, rolling slightly as he flipped into power-saving mode with a relieved whistle.

Taking a hydrating swig from her whiskey bottle, she watched the girl in the brown robe a couple tables over finally shake her head, grab her bag, and approach. “Can I offer you something I like to call 'It's the middle of the day and the Mojave is hot'?” the girl said. She set a can of water beside the whiskey.

Carrot grabbed the can and tossed the water down in a single breath, grimacing after. “It’ll do. Thanks, friend!”

The girl chuckled. “Friend already, huh? You do move fast. Next date’s on you to pay me back for that water, though.”

Carrot grinned and took another bite out of her mantis. The girl watched her chew for a bit, then pushed again. “You look like you’ve done some hiking. Where you come from?”

“Today?” She jabbed over her shoulder with a thumb. “Gas and Service.”

“You take the scenic route, maybe throw in some rock climbing and deathclaw wrestling?”

“No, took me and ED-E here hours to haul all our scrap! That hill is killer.”

“You’re right, that is…a hill.” The girl frowned a bit at where the old overpass dropped off behind Carrot, a building visible in the distance, then refocused, with a quick flick of the eyes towards the dormant eyebot in the process. “How about before then?”

“The grave.” Carrot continued casually eating mantis.

“Huh.” She paused. “Well, in that case, I take it back. You look pretty good, given the circumstances. Welcome back from the dead, I suppose. I’m Veronica. I live in a hole in the ground.” She thrusts out a hand towards Carrot.

Carrot dropped her mantis. “You live in a hole in the ground?”

“Well, a bunker, if you want to get technical. I think it sounds more interesting my way. I’m out here picking up the groceries for my family.”

Carrot cocked her head at Veronica. “Gross-rees? Isn’t a hole in the ground gross enough? What else could they possibly add?”

“Hah, no, food and supplies. That’s an old-world term, don’t worry ‘bout it. But hey, listen. What’s your name?”

“Carrot!”

“…Carrot. You look like a…worldly gal. Can I ask you something on the level?”

Carrot folded her hands under her chin. “Go for it.”

Veronica glanced around conspiratorially, then leaned in close. Carrot mirrored the movement. “I had a run-in with this group calling themselves the Brotherhood of Steel,” she murmured. “Pretty strange bunch. Do you know anything about them?”

“The Brotherhood of Steel…hmm…” Carrot struggled to remember for a moment. “Oh! Yeah, I think I have heard of them!”

“Yeah? Any juicy bits of intel?” Veronica’s eyes had a slight piercing quality, well hidden, as she watched Carrot’s face.

“I’ve heard they shoot lasers from their eyes!”

Veronica’s eyes widened. She sat back, then broke into laughter at the look of genuine excitement on Carrot’s face. “Wow. I’ve got to admit, you have completely defied my first impression of you. Eye lasers. I’ll be sure and look out for that next time.”

“You do that. It’d be some sneaky stuff. Much harder to predict than actual guns.” Carrot finally remembered her mantis and set to work prying the last bit of meat from the shell.

“Hey, so, where are you headed, anyway?” The piercing gaze had been replaced with curiosity.

“Ya know, that’s a good question.” Carrot pondered a moment. “I just kind of drift from place to place.”

“Just wherever the wind takes you, huh? I like that. Keeps things interesting.”

“What’s it to you? Where’re you headed for your gross-rees?”

“Oh, nowhere in particular, really. My family knows I’ll be out a while. What I’m really hoping for is just to see more of the world. Looking for a fresh perspective.” Her gaze dropped, momentarily somber. But she cheered back up quickly. “I want to see how different groups have adapted to survive in the Mojave! See if there’s something I can learn from.” Hesitating, she eyed Carrot up and down once more, gaze lingering on the scar between her eyes and on the eyebot. “I’ll be honest. Trading and scavenging for a living? It’s kinda boring. And you look a lot more interesting than most of the prospectors or high-roller wannabees that roll through here. Maybe we could travel together, help each other out. What do you think? There are places I’ve never been that’d be too dangerous for just me, and I can already tell you’re gonna be a very…fresh perspective. And in exchange, I’m pretty _handy_ in a fight.” She held up her other hand, the one she’d kept tangled in her bag to poorly obscure the bulky metal power fist gloving it. She grinned brightly. “I’m great at punching people. Not gonna lie, it’s a gift. So what do you say?”

Carrot was nodding enthusiastically by the time the power fist came out. “Let’s do it. You look strong enough to help me carry my scrap, too!”

“…Aww, you really know how to make a girl feel like the prize pack brahmin.” But she hesitated again. “One thing you should know first…I asked you about the Brotherhood because I’m one of them. I know, I know—” she quickly sidestepped Carrots wide-eyed look, dropping her eyes—”but I had to know how you’d react when I told you. We’ve made a lot of enemies. You still okay bringing me along?”

“You _have_ to show me the eye lasers!”

Veronica broke into another startled laugh. Once she’d recovered, she leaned back in and whispered, “They’re top secret. I’m forbidden from using them except in the most dire of emergencies.”

Carrot pouted. “We should find one of those soon so I can see.”

“Sure thing.” Veronica grinned, her face more relaxed than it had been the entire conversation. “Well, thanks for taking a chance on a naive young girl from California with stars in her eyes and a pneumatic gauntlet on her hand. Let’s hit the road, huh?”

“Yep, let’s go! Hey, can you carry this pack?”

* * *

They packed up and dropped by one of the merchants, an NCR dischargee still doing her bit for the war effort by selling arms dirt-cheap, to stock back up on ammo. After seeing Carrot crooning over new grenades for her grenade rifle, Veronica suggested—not without some hesitation— “There’s a Gun Runner merchant usually parked under this bridge. I’m more of a punching sorta gal, but you might smell enough like gunpowder for him to give you the time of day.”

He snorted at Carrot at first glance. “Am I selling? Yeah. Am I selling to you? No. Sorry to hurt your feelings, but you’re small time. Move along.”

But Carrot was already past him and into his truck, popping open cases as if they weren’t all locked and rigged to explode. “Nine mil, nine mil, ooh, twelve-point-seven, love those! They’re just so heavy, you know? Oh look at this pretty carbine…I really oughta fix up my .357, do you have one of them heavy-duty cylinders?”

He blinked at her, mouth working mutely, then sighed. “Yeah, sure, I hang on to mods when I can. Try that case.”

“Nothing for my plasma pistol? You’ve got nothing energy here, why’s that?”

“Used to, but every caravan carrying them was getting ambushed. By someone sophisticated enough to know which is which. We think it was the Brotherhood of Steel, those crazies always go hard for energy weapons. But the NCR would rather pretend they killed all of them.”

Veronica cut in as Carrot, plopped down in the back of the truck with a pistol dismantled in front of her, began to open her mouth. “Good thing we’ve got nothing fancy they’d want. Thanks for the warning, we’ll keep an eye out for them. How much for that piece she grabbed?”

Also under the overpass, at the far corner from the Gun Runner, was a child. He sat on the ground, cross-legged, no weapon in sight, in front of an array of junk set to the backdrop of an old-world flag. He wore a strange metal object on his head. “Hello, ma’am,” he called to Carrot as she passed. “I hope you’re doing fine today.”

“Heya, kid,” she replied. “You selling that junk there?”

“Oh, I don’t sell _things_ , ma’am. I sell _thoughts_. And this stuff here isn’t junk, it’s other people’s thoughts. People had to think to make them, and the thoughts got stuck inside.” He smiled at her, bland and childlike, but with a weary look to his eyes. “I need other people’s thoughts to fill my head when I’m not thinking myself. Otherwise it’s…kind of empty.”

Carrot’s confusion must have shown on her face, because Veronica said quickly, “He calls himself the Forecaster. No parents, poor thing. Just a harmless kid. Let’s get—”

“You sell ‘thoughts’?”

“I can take off my medicine and do some thinking.” He tapped the metal device on his head. “It hurts my head to think, it’s why I got the medicine, but people say it’s real interesting. I don’t know, cause I never hear it. Some people say that it’s a gift. Other people say that it’s the kind of thinking anyone could do if they watched more than they talked. I don’t know which is true. I see a lot, I think a lot. There’s a lot to hear through the 188, too, that maybe accounts for the thinking. I can think for you, if you want, about Everywhere, or about Here, or even about You.”

“I already heard 'Here', there’s nothing to tell,” blurted Veronica.

Carrot had knelt down, face to face with the boy. “What do you think about me?”

His face grew solemn. “Okay. Let me take off my medicine…

_“Your face does the thinking—two to the skull, yet one gets up. Odds are against you…but they’re just numbers after the two-to-one._

_“You’re playing the hand you’ve been dealt, but you don’t let it rest, you shuffle and stack, and a gamble—a gamble that may pay off?…but how?_

_“Forecast: Rapidly changing conditions.”_

He took a deep, shuddering breath, then replaced the device. “A lot of thinking—most of it in your face, it’s almost shouting at me. …Sorry if I said anything weird.”

Veronica’s face was closed, pondering. Carrot cocked her head as she eyed the boy.

The spot between her eyes itched. She scratched it, and jumped a little at the feel of the knotty scar under her fingertips. Oh right, she kept forgetting about that one. Oh right, someone shot her in the head.

She jumped to her feet, dusting off her hands on her pants. “Bye, gotta go kill that guy that killed me.”

She turned and strode off. Veronica watched her go, mouth open, before scrambling to count out caps to the boy and run after her.


	4. Resfeber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt:  
> Resfeber: thrill felt before an adventure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gold star to anyone who can find the easter egg ;)

Veronica was sleeping soundly in the large bed, an occasional small snore audible. Carrot hoisted the pack with a stifled grunt and slipped out the door of the Novac hotel room, ED-E floating quietly in her wake.

She found an old picnic table in the courtyard, most of its boards still intact, and dropped the pack onto it before sitting down. Then she upended the bag, and its contents spilled out with a clatter. Metallic bits and bottles glimmered in the gentle moonlight. She began sorting through them, ED-E beeping soft commentary as she worked. Spent bullet casings, old knives, a jug of turpentine, scrap metal and electronics. Crumpled cigarettes and assorted keys and ID cards. Some pouches with prickly pear and mesquite pods. A few beer bottles, a box of Blamco, some ancient silverware and a pile of clothing that wasn’t hers. An assortment of the latest loot she’d collected. The items got divided into piles. Things to keep always included keys, because why sacrifice access? Alcohol, especially now that she could store it in the hotel room instead of lugging the extra weight. Replacement parts for her guns, because that’s about all she could repair on her own, and just-add-water meals like the Blamco.

Her hands moved automatically while her mind wandered, multiple threads of thought chatting up a storm. Despite the late hour, her brain was fully active making plans for the upcoming adventure. Well, when she looked closer at it, it was less _plans_ and more storytelling about what might happen. A rocket testing facility! There must be so many cool things to find there. What if there’s still some rockets ready to launch! What if she has to fight the ferals off from taking the rockets? Ghouls in spaceships! Now there’s a hell of a script.

ED-E trilled a soft question at her and she jumped, realizing she’d been staring at the shining tangle of metal in her hands. She gazed at the glimmering piece a little longer before tearing her eyes away and placing it in the things to sell pile. Most scrap ends up in this pile, along with spent casings. It’s not like she could get any use out of them, but plenty of other people were happy to pay for the odds and ends she tended to stumble across, or the casings they’d reload and resell. Without the patience to cook, ingredients got sold off as well. Weapons were always valuable for trade, and since she already had her trusty pistols and pile of grenades, she was happy to trade as much as she could carry. On long nights she’d sometimes occupy herself cleaning and repairing scrounged guns to get a better price out of them. It’s not like she’d be sleeping those nights, like tonight, anyway, and it was an automatic habit she was happy to get lost in.

_I can definitely help you find him_ , Manny had said when she’d asked after the man in the checkered jacket. _But I’ve got problems of my own_.

She had been immediately curious and started digging, but as usual, most of it passed through her ears without comprehension. Too many letters and big army words. Names of groups that she swore she kept hearing around but could never care enough about to remember. He’d been sad, though. _You’ve had your needs ignored for ages, huh?_ she’d asked. _I can tell._

_Yeah, I…everybody depends on you, you know? But they don’t ask you how you feel. What you worry about_. She’d been cheered to see his face relax; the only people more boring than snipers tended to be gloomy snipers. What did he have to worry about with that big gun of his, anyway?

_There’s something I like about you_ , he’d continued. _You just seem really understanding_. She’d caught Veronica muffle a snort behind her at that.

_I can definitely help you find this guy you’re lookin’ for. I just…_ He’d paused, smiled a little, and shook his head. _Can I tell you about this problem we’ve got here? Maybe we can trade_. And so here she was, night before heading out to clear some ferals, sorting loot cause her brain was too excited to sleep.

ED-E beeped an alert, moments before Carrot heard the hotel room door open and watched Veronica creep out. “That’s cheating,” she grumped at the bot, who just bobbed a bit in reply. Veronica moved deliberately, crouched, gauntlet on her fist, scanning the area, until she spotted the two at the table. Carrot waved cheerfully.

“Why you all scaredy up there?” she asked as Veronica came close. “I already took out the old lady, there’s no one else to worry about here.”

Veronica’s face became a picture of surprise. “Why did you take out an old lady?”

“She sold Boone’s wife to Legion slavers.” The shock didn’t seem to abate, oddly. Carrot thought that was a perfectly reasonable explanation.

Veronica took a moment to gape, then rearranged her face into something more neutral. “Whatcha doin out here?”

“Organizing.” She gestured at the table.

“…so I see.”

“Then why did you ask?” Why did everyone always insist on asking questions they already knew the answer to? It didn’t make sense to her, that’s just a waste of time. You could be asking exciting questions with answers like _ferals_ or _grenades_ instead.

“…do you know what time it is?”

She eyed the moon’s position in the sky. “Imma say…real late. Or real early.”

“You’ve got a Pip-Boy you could check, you know.”

“Oh right!” She clicked through the screens. Rad levels were starting to grow, but nothing worth dealing with RadAway yet. No major injuries to speak of at the moment. The creepy auto documentation system seemed to be struggling to handle the pile of loot sprawled across the table. She read through the list with interest. Outfit, silenced .22, oh, she’s still got some gumdrops in her pocket, she should grab those before they melt. Pretty random on whether or not the loot was listed.

“Time, Carrot. You’re checking the time.”

“Oh right! Uh. 2:23 AM.”

“So, whatcha doin organizing at 2:23 AM?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Brain’s goin too fast. Too much thinkin’ ‘bout tomorrow.”

Veronica took a seat across the table and began repacking a pile. “You worried?” she asked, not looking up.

“Not in the slightest! A building full of ferals is basically the best thing. Just find the room they’re all sleeping in, chuck a grenade or three, and done. Only real worry short of flying guts is the building collapsing, but I’ve only had to deal with that a few times.”

Now Veronica looked up and grinned. “You done a lot of these sorts of jobs?”

“Since I got shot, yeah! Turns out lotsa people like having a little bit a’ crazy with a grenade go blow up their problems.” She showed her teeth, letting some of the late night delirium infect her smile.

“How about before then?”

“Don’t remember a thing. ‘parently I was a courier.” She shrugged and pulled a couple rough-looking 9mils and a rag in front of her.

“What, you? You got worn out going _downhill!_ You didn’t have power armor to help you carry all those _letters_ , did you?”

“Oh that’s a great idea! I’ll do that next time!”

Veronica was quiet for a few minutes as Carrot broke down and cleaned the guns. The barrel and sights on one were banged up and half knocked loose, but the ones on the other were perfectly salvageable. She started swapping pieces.

“You going to be out here a while longer?”

“Until I finish these fixes or fall asleep, yep.”

She smiled. “Well, I’m just glad my new companion…s…didn’t run off on me in the middle of the night with all our loot. Hope you’re gonna be capable of aiming in the morning!”

“Hey, same! See you...sometime.”

“Night.”

Veronica returned to the hotel room. Carrot turned back to the guns. She had a lot of loose screws to find.


End file.
